


Stolen

by PTlikesTea



Series: Breaking Down [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Homeworld caste system, Pearls as sentient iPhones, grim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:41:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTlikesTea/pseuds/PTlikesTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose's world view is shattered by a black market pearl and the realization that everything she knows about them is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen

Stolen

 

First fic for this fandom, hopefully not the last. Be warned, it is grim as feck. Really taking the iPhone equivalency to the nth degree.

…..

The thing that spurred Pink Diamond’s glorious revolution was not one big incident, but a number of little things that stuck in her being like grit and could not let her rest easy in herself and her place in the world.

The first of these little things, the pebble that began the rockslide, was a pearl. Not her pearl, just a pearl.

…..

They had only called her in because they had run out of options. The pearl wasn’t talking, or perhaps it couldn’t; they had checked it for damage but besides the filed-off serial numbers there was nothing. Some superficial cracks, barely worth mentioning. Rose had a way of convincing gems lower on the scale to open up to her. She used kindness in place of the cold rigid authority of her sisters, and while they may have dismissed her soft-hearted leanings as a failing, they had to admit it came in useful.

She wrestled with the impulse to bring her own pearl with her; she hadn’t had her for very long and she was already proving very useful to have around. But she decided against it in the end. Her pearl was one of the newest models and with each new release came a bloom of thievery. It was doubtful anyone would try to steal from a Diamond, but even so, why risk it? She left the pearl with some household tasks and made her way to the barracks alone.

She was greeted at the barracks by a harried-looking Fluorite, who bowed low in greeting. Rows of Jasper were facing the walls as she was guided through the corridor; it was their punishment for harbouring stolen goods, Fluorite explained, thirty cycles of isolation.

“The one that got it in the first place was crushed a while back, none of them can say where it came from,” Fluorite muttered. “It wouldn’t matter if the pearl would speak to us, but…”

“Not to worry,” Rose assured her gently. “If it can speak, it will speak to me.”

She was confident, going in. Wretchedly confident. She would never feel so confident again.

It was quite an ordinary pearl, all things considered. Not especially bright or lustrous, sitting at a table used for interrogating prisoners, dwarfed by the chair far more used to holding larger gems. Its manifested outfit was plain, a simple yellow blouse and knee-length blue skirt, free of adornment. Its hair hung straight, barely brushing its shoulders. All the same, there were no ugly pearls. This one had just been held by gems that put no thought into how it looked. There was no need for it to look anything less than serviceable.

It looked up as she entered, but did not bow, or smile, or say a word as other pearls would have done with gusto. It glanced once at her face and turned its gaze back to its hands, folded gently on the table.

Rose concealed her shock at this blatant display of disrespect, reminded herself that the pearl was likely damaged and probably not really aware of what it was doing. She beamed her most beatific smile and sat across from it.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked.

The pearl looked up, nodded, and looked down again.

“Excellent. I was asked to come here to speak with you. Can you speak?”

“Yes. I can.”

Rose was taken aback, and concealed it quickly. All the pearls she had come across had melodious voices, and never spoke less than pleasantly at all times, even when delivering bad news. This one’s voice was flat, monotone. It sounded _wrong._

“Oh good,” Rose said, brushing off her unease. “Fluorite was concerned that you were damaged.”

“I am damaged. My serial number is gone and my mass is incomplete without it.”

It held up one hand to show that it was missing two fingers. Rose sighed; a flaw meant that the pearl would need to be scrapped unless they found an owner who was willing to overlook it.

“Not to worry. What’s important now is that we find out where you come from. You may not know this, but pearls are forbidden in barracks. Those Jaspers are in rather a lot of trouble.”

“I did not come here willingly.”

“Oh, I know that. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” Rose laughed gently. “But there have been a lot of pearl thefts lately, I think you could help us prevent them. And then we could find you a nice new owner. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“No. Pardon me for being blunt, but I would like to be crushed please.”

The pearl said it quietly, but it cut through Rose as keenly as a scream. She felt her mass grow cold. This was unheard of, even for normal gems. But for a _pearl_ to express such a wish…a pearl, whose entire being and every desire revolved around serving gemkind. They were designed that way, it was all they knew.

It was all they were supposed to know.

“I will…think on it. If you can tell me how you came to be here.”

The pearl told her. And Rose understood. As much as she wished afterwards she didn’t, she understood.

…..

The pearl had belonged to a high-status gem, but couldn’t say what kind. That information had been wiped along with its serial number. It had been sent out to deliver a message to a friend of its owner’s, and had been ambushed by a gang. It was poofed immediately to prevent it identifying its attackers, and described feeling a grating sensation as its identity was scraped away. When it regenerated, it had been sold on the black market.

Its new owner was a Citrine, a well-off merchant looking to buy a pearl but not looking to pay the high price for a new one. She was a good owner in her own way, merely required the pearl to keep her home in order, check her stock for her and to show off to her friends. She made use of the pearl sexually from time to time, but not very often.

(Such things were not unheard of, and Rose had considered using her own in this way, but hadn’t gotten around to it.)

After a time, the Citrine’s wares were investigated for black market ties and she grew nervous. She wiped all of her data from the pearl’s memory and sold it on to a set of Peridots who pooled their money to buy it. The Peridots bickered over the proper use of the pearl, and in their distraction they didn’t notice it being stolen right under their noses by a fellow technician who was having financial problems.

Having gone through three owners and being recognisable as coming from the black market, the pearl’s value decreased and every new owner was a step lower. Its memory was wiped time and time again, often so badly that fragments of data remained floating in its mind, out of context, so that it could barely tell one owner from the next. As it was stolen goods it could only be repaired by black market technicians with broken tools, and only if its current owner felt like paying the money for repairs. They rarely did.

Finally, it was sold to a Jasper on a cycle away from her barracks, who brought it back to the other Jaspers. It wasn’t the only pearl there; there was one that had been there for so long, its gem was cracked in several places and badly discoloured. It had lost its speech and most of its motor control.

The Jaspers were young, only a few cycles out of the kindergarten, and full of the casual cruelty of youth. The pearls were toys for them, objects to be bickered over and traded for favours. They were kept in a box under the floor during drill time and battles and taken out during peacetime to amuse the Jaspers. The other pearl could no longer sing or dance, and such things bored the Jaspers. They had the pearls perform acts of depravity that the pearl refused to divulge to Rose.

(Rose’s imagination filled in the blanks, before she could stop herself.)

The pearls kept each other sane, where they could. They suffered, often bore new cracks and had to regenerate often, but they had each other for company. They suffered together, and somehow that made it more bearable. In the box they were wrapped around each other for comfort, the only kindness they were permitted, before they could be pulled back into brutality.

They stayed in the barracks for a long time. How long, the pearl could not tell. They never saw outside the barracks. One day a Jasper from another barracks was temporarily reassigned after they had lost three in a skirmish, and asked to borrow a pearl to take back for her old companions. The Jaspers agreed to send the older broken one, and it never came back.

Shortly after, a change occurred in the pearl. Its ingrained desire to obey its owners melted away and acting against every instinct it possessed, it pulled itself out of its box and walked through the barracks to the supervising Fluorite’s office. It had refused to speak, even as waves of the military came in to prod and poke at it to find out how the Jaspers had been able to keep it a secret for so long. Finally, out of desperation, they had called for Rose.

…..

Story finished, the pearl held Rose’s horrified stare. It bore no expression, besides a sense of weariness.

Rose was shaken. Every little snippet of information she knew about pearls was built on how they were not real gems, not made in the same way, free of any will or desire to do anything but serve. They did not suffer. They did not act on their own. They were no different than a starship or a screen or a rotor gun.

But this one… this pearl had suffered, had acted on its own, and was now expressing a wish to be ground into nothing. What could she possibly do with this information?

That was for later, when she could go home and process her thoughts. For now, she had a pearl who needed her help. If she could help it.

“I could send you to be realigned. We can fix your gem, give you a new number. I know of a Citrine who could take you….” Rose offered.

“I would rather not,” the pearl said quietly, looking at its hands again. “I do not think that my memories can be fully wiped again, and I do not wish to remember what has past. But it is all I can think about. I would like not to think again.”

To think of all the things that it had left unsaid. And how could Rose blame it for that? She didn’t want to think of it either.

“If that is your wish, I will grant it. I will ask them to send you to the processing chamber as soon as possible. Is there anything else you want?”

“Yes. If I may.”

For the first time, a flicker of emotion bloomed on the pearl’s face. It wasn’t the bright, showy display put on for the pleasure of an owner (for owners liked their pearls to smile and laugh and shed tears _and how much of that was programmed into them, how much was actively faked for the sake of the owners)_ , but a genuine sparkle of hope in its eyes.

“Go ahead, I’ll see what I can do.”

“The other pearl who was in the barracks with me…I would like for her to be found. Repaired, if she can be, or put to rest if not. She was my friend.”

_She. She was my friend._

“I will do my best to find her,” Rose promised.

…..

Rose returned home to her own pearl, who was lovely and obliging and smiling and _who knew what she was really thinking._ She saw that Rose was troubled, and offered songs and dances to cheer her. Rose refused her, but took her into her arms and held her close as though she could stop any harm from befalling her.

_Not my pearl. That will never happen to my pearl._

But pearls were stolen every day, and although it was an annoyance to their owners they brushed it off and got a new one in short order. They vanished into the black market to be redistributed to anywhere and everywhere. Thinking, feeling gems.

The pearl from the barracks was crushed shortly after Rose left, and Fluorite reported with some confusion that it had gone peacefully, smiling.

Rose searched for the pearl’s friend, the broken one. The trail went cold after the third barracks was searched, and she was never found.

 


End file.
